Nowhere To Hide
by redrocksoul
Summary: After a hunt's gone wrong, Sam leaves the crime scene with a really nasty head trauma. But soon he finds out the next consequences, and Dean is more than thrilled to improvise in order to save his brother's life.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note** : Hi! It's my second story so far. I know the first one is not finished and all, I'm not dropping it. I set the deadline to the end of the year and it should really be finished by then. In the meantime, since I'm still searching for a beta, you can calm your hunger for stories with this one.

By the way, if anyone is willing to beta this or the other, just drop me a PM.

 **Summary:** After a hunt's gone wrong, Sam leaves the crime scene with a really nasty head trauma. But soon he finds out the next consequences, and Dean is more than thrilled to improvise in order to save his brother's life.

 **Warnings:** Swearing, some mild depictions of violence in this chapter. For any additional warnings: see the top of the chapter.

 **Disclaimer:** I own neither of the characters nor any show-related stuff. Sniff-sniff.

* * *

 **Nowhere To Hide**

* * *

"SAM!" Dean screamed in terror as he watched his brother being thrown against the wall on the opposite side of the room. A local legend, a ghost of Jimmy the Lumberjack, was staring at the oldest of the Winchester brothers with a nasty smile of satisfaction on his face. "You son of a bitch!" Dean yelled as he took a look at his brother; though conscious, Sam was definitely incoherent at the moment.

But the job had to be done, and it had to be done soon.

Dean hurried though the room to the next chamber, only hoping that the monster would follow. He really needed to find the corpse before someone else got hurt.

He flinched when the horrible smell of a decaying body hit him. A nasty, hideous, disgusting stink. Dean couldn't help but notice that though he should've been used to it, he wanted to flee any time he inhaled the distinctive odour. Usually, he left the job to Sam, excusing himself by taking a guard and walking around, the distance just accurate not to feel the scent. _That's what younger brothers are for, right?_ He smiled at the thought.

But everyone had to deal with their fears at some point, and it was Dean's turn. Stepping cautiously, he grabbed a compact sack of salt from his pocket and threw it all over the body, trying not to lean over it more than necessary.

However, it was never that easy with Jimmy the Lumberjack. Even during his life, he was perceived as vengeful and particularly mean. So, as he became a ghost, he could finally fulfill his sick ambitions without a menace of penalty for the crimes. And no man was going to stop him.

He rushed through the hall, chasing the eldest Winchester. He knew that the easiest way to hurt this snobbish fop was to hit his little brother, but what's the fun if you have the leverage? _No, the satisfaction comes from the hard work_ , his father used to say.

"Come to me, motherfucker," Dean hissed, discreetly hiding his left arm behind his back as he tightened the grip around the iron bar he was holding.

The figure was moving steadily, seeming to be more than certain about the fight's result. He didn't stop to smile craftily, his eyes fixed on Dean. As he was close enough to the man, he raised his arm in order to strike, but was surprised by the metal rod coming through his abdomen. He had managed to scream in terror and panic right before he disappeared.

Dean didn't wait until the iron took effect and ran as soon as he felt the bar encounter resistance. With one swift move he set the corpse on fire, making sure that the creature was truly gone.

* * *

"You okay?" Dean shouted across the room, sprinting to his barely conscious brother sitting in the corner of the dark room.

"I'll live," Sam moaned, allowing Dean to lift him up and support most of his weight. "Let's just get to the Impala."

They walked slowly, the older of the brothers always one step ahead, cautiously looking for any other danger that might have been willing to attack his younger sibling. Sam was hurt, and though he wouldn't admit it, he felt horrible and needed to rest as soon as possible.

At the end of the short hike Sam was almost a dead weight, gradually slipping into unconsciousness. Dean had let him lean against the car's trunk before he opened the door and positioned his brother along the back seat.

"Sammy, do you hear me?" he asked, seriously worried, yet remaining completely balanced.

His brother let out a small moan in response, either not coherent enough or in too much pain to answer the question. Dean murmured something illegible, once again making sure that his brother was as fine as he could be in the moment. He took a place behind the wheel and put the keys in the ignition, allowing the soft hum to calm his shattered nerves.

* * *

"Dean?"

The voice was quiet, almost completely silent. But it was more than enough for the older Winchester to make his heart clench.

He knew that whatever it was, it was bad. Because knocking this sasquatch out was never an easy task. Well, except for Dean. He'd trained him and knew his brother better than anyone, including each and every weak spot. But this time it was different – he was lying flat, completely vulnerable, the weak cry practically begging for his big brother's attention.

"Hold on, Sammy, we'll be there in a minute."

Dean didn't look back; he was racing long past the speed limit, and needed to be totally focused not to cause an accident. At least that was what he was telling himself as an excuse to his behaviour. In fact, he was more than terrified to see Sam like that and not to break, especially when there was no place to run away to.

"Try to stay awake, alright? This is very important." Dean said, voice loud and clear, insistently trying to hide from his brother how nervous he was. He didn't need to add any worries to Sam's condition.

"M'head hurts," Sam slurred. "Wha'appened?"

"You hit your head. Don't move, okay? I need to see what's wrong first."

Dean looked nervously on the watch steadily positioned on his left arm. "Come on," he mumbled to himself, attentively watching for the sign that signalled that the Rainbow Motel was half a mile ahead. He couldn't help a fade chuckle at the thought that such an old and dingy place could be even slightly related to rainbow.

A dim shape entered the horizon, and Dean immediately could tell that was what was looking for. He raised the corners of his mouth, his eyes immediately brighter and filled with good radiance. _Hope_.

"Sammy?" he asked tentatively as he twisted the steering wheel, the car arriving and stopping at the driveway.

"S'Sam."

"Okay, _Sam._ " He got out of the car and shut the driver's door, simultaneously opening the back with a loud creak that made Sam flinch. "Sorry," he mumbled as he reached for his brother. "Can you walk?"

"Y-yeah, I think so." He pressed his arms against the seat for balance as his legs worked to pull him out of the car. He didn't object when Dean embraced him tightly and lifted him up until Sam was steady enough to stand on his own. "Okay. I'm good," he'd mumbled quietly before Dean released the grip, yet left a hand to guide him.

Sam hesitated, but finally raised his leg in order to make a step. With his feet still on the ground, he shifted it forward, inch after inch, his right hand holding Dean's tightly. And when he almost made it, when he'd done the majority of work, the world started spinning and the next thing he knew he was on the ground with his head resting on Dean's knees.

"You okay fellas?" He heard a raspy voice, probably directed towards Dean.

"We're _fine_ ," Dean hissed, grasping Sam's shoulder tighter.

Sam tried to tilt his head in order to see the man. He was curious why Dean had been so gruff, especially while being in his whole mother hen mode, but quickly regretted the idea as nausea embraced his body, twisting his stomach and leaving it upside-down. "I wanna puke…" he mumbled.

"Do you have a room here? He looks like he needs a bed."

 _Needless to say_ , Dean thought, but bit his tongue. "Sam, you alright to walk?" he asked instead.

Sam shut his eyes, hoping if he couldn't see the world spinning, it wouldn't spin. But he was a drowning man clutching at a straw; there was no way to run away from inevitable.

"No." He looked down in a defence gesture.

"Are you sure he doesn't need a check-up in some hospital? It looks pretty serious," the mysterious guy spoke up. "Listen, if you're not going to take him to any hospital, at least let's take him to his room."

"He's _fine._ " Dean said with venom no one would have expected from him. "Just back the fuck off."

"Dean," Sam murmured weakly. "He's right."

The older Winchester's face turned red with anger, but he didn't flinch when the man approached Sam, offering a steady hand. "Dean…" Sam whined, waiting for his brother to react. Dean sighed and, with a little help of the stranger, he lifted Sam up and guided him to their room.

"We're okay now," Dean announced as soon as they crossed the doorstep. "I've got 'im."

The man didn't move an inch.

"It's fine, really," Sam responded. "Thanks." He smiled faintly.

The man lessened a grip until Sam completely lost contact with his arm. "I'm two doors to the left. If you need anything, you can always ask." He waited for Sam to nod, then disappeared behind the corner.

"What's wrong with you?" Sam asked after he was laid down on his bed. "He just wanted to help."

"Damn it, Sam, you wanted to let a marine in to a room full of illegal weapons," Dean explained.

"He was a marine?"

Dean sighed. "No, he was a male stripper dressed like a marine." Sam looked at him with a blank expression. "Try to get some sleep, you look like you need one."

Sam didn't protest, and within a minute he was drowning in a world where time and space were abstract concepts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Before you read the chapter** : I have a pretty good idea about human anatomy and physiology, but I decide to be as ignorant as the show is ( _Red Meat_ , everyone) and reject all the rational and logical stuff. It is fiction, it is supposed to entertain, not teach biology. I don't know yet how far I'll go, but be aware that some of the medical descriptions might be completely fake and made up. If you feel offended by such misconceptions, please leave right now.

* * *

Sam woke up to what he felt like minutes, in reality it was one of the longest sleeps he had ever had. There was a dense fog before his eyes that didn't seem to be fading away, making everything dull, dim and blurry. Sam muttered something legible just to himself and fought his way of finding the edge of whatever he was lying on. The events of the previous day were a complete mystery for him – he had a few flashes, but no way to make sense out of them. A house, Dean's gun, Impala… It was all too familiar, the same pattern wherever they were. And neither of the scenarios leading to the situation like this was much promising.

He rubbed his eyes as he tried to surpass the cloud. It did not go away though; he'd given up before it could take any effect. Instead, he worked his way to take more vertical position, but was soon sat down with a wave of dizziness and a killer headache, yet succeeded in spilling out a glass of water that lay on the table next to the bed. "Whoa," he splattered unconsciously.

"You're worse than a baby." Sam heard someone say. "I can be next to you a week and nothing, but the moment I leave you, you just have to wake up and make a mess." Sam bit his lip. He recognised the voice. And if he wasn't in such pain, he would obstinately try not to smile. _Dean_. He jerked as he forced himself upright, yet with a lame result.

"You okay, man?" Dean asked with concern, rushing through the room to his brother. He grasped a worn pillow from the top of his own bed and eased it against his sibling's upper back, making sure Sam was as comfortable as he could possibly be. "I'll bring you a fresh glass of water." When a weak nod had come, he walked away to the kitchen sink.

He returned within an excellent time, even for a Winchester, and took place on Sam's bed, right beside his brother's left hip. He put the glass on the bedside table and easily lifted Sam to the sitting position, deaf and blind to any attempts of sitting up by himself his brother took. He gripped the glass and pressed it against Sam's lips. "Nuh-uh," he commented when a cold and trembling hand rested on his forearm.

The glass soon became empty again and Dean placed it on the floor. "Alright, now it's time you can whine as much as you want. Seriously, I'm even willing to make you those fancy pancakes for breakfast for you."

Instead of a smartass response, Sam glanced at Dean with a suspicious look. "What happened?"

"How much do you remember?"

"Uh, not much," Sam admitted quietly. "We were hunting this poltergeist in Iowa, we finished the job and then…blank." He shrugged defeated.

"Dude, it was three weeks ago!" Dean exclaimed, but moderated his voice as he observed a grimace on Sam's face. "Don't you remember anything after this? Trip to Ohio? The epic fight I had with the wendigo? Not even the moment this nasty ghost threw you against the wall?"

Sam attempted to slide his legs down the bed and regretted it just a second after he'd made an effort. "If I say I don't remember, I mean it," he announced with a serious tone. "And if you're in the mother mode, I could use some help with getting to the bathroom."

Dean had grabbed him under his armpits before he lifted him up and lean him against his own chest.

"Just reminding that I'm not a sack of potatoes," Sam moaned. "And I can stand."

He pushed himself from the steady figure of his brother into the swirling world. His legs felt like they were made of rubber, ye he managed to block the joints firmly enough to stand on his own. He stretched his arm to reach the chair, but underestimated the distance, which sent him on flight towards the ground. Luckily for him, his brother was reluctant to believe him, and caught his flying figure before Sam managed to cause himself more damage and pain.

"Stupid sack of potatoes," Dean murmured as he led his brother to the bathroom. "You okay now?" When Sam had nodded weakly, he stepped out to give his brother a bit of privacy.

* * *

"Let me sleep."

Dean watched his brother roll onto the other side to face the wall. "Sam…" he started tentatively.

"Let me sleep." The younger Winchester was persistent with the statement.

Dean drew back with an intention to sink in the pillows on his bed. He glanced at the clock in the usual manner, and was surprised by the time it presented. "Sam," he said, much more confident this time. "You've slept enough. You have to eat, man, or exercise. Do something."

Sam sighed and mumbled something illegible, yet didn't perform any significant action.

When Dean was sure Sam was not going to move, he walked towards him. "Oh, come on, it's just a concussion." He poked him in the shoulder, but when he didn't get any response, he decided to make a more radical step and vigorously lifted Sam up. As a result of a quick movement, Sam had felt his stomach clench right before expelling its content on the laminate floor.

"What?" Dean managed to ask as he jumped backwards, trying to avoid stepping into the stain. "Lie down, I'll take care of it."

Still green on his face, Sam rested his back against the pillows, waiting until his brother finished the cleaning and slightly opened the window.

"I think it's time to go to the hospital," Dean said. "You're not getting any better, man, and we need to get you going…"

"Just one more day," Sam interrupted. "It _is_ getting better. But I need more time."

In the light of this argument and Sam's puppy eyes, Dean was left with no room for discussion.

* * *

Dean sat down on Dean's bed, a glass full of water in his hand, and a gruff facial expression painted all over his face. A dim light was insolently exposing the wrinkles on his forehead, revealing over twenty years of concern about his brother.

"Drink," he demanded firmly.

"No."

"Drink or we go to the hospital."

He smiled slightly as a trembling hand reached for a glass. He passed the vessel, careful not to spit any content on the worn blanket on Sam's lap. When the water filled in the younger Winchester's stomach, he left the glass on the table and helped his brother to take a comfortable position, patiently waiting until Sam had fallen asleep.

As soon as it had happened, he brought out the pile of fake insurance cards and tried to find the most fitting one. He pulled the one saying 'Sam Hurley' and smiled to himself. He knew the hospital was an unavoidable option, but Sam didn't seem to realise it just yet. But when he did, Dean would be prepared. And who said Sam was the organised brother?

* * *

 **Please let me know what you think so far!**


End file.
